


The Note

by ThatwasJustaDream



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Oaths & Vows, Pining, Relationship(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-25 10:04:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12033648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatwasJustaDream/pseuds/ThatwasJustaDream
Summary: Written for the Suits 100 challenge. The prompt:  What if the envelope Harvey has prepared for Mike is filled with an empty page: anything and everything is what he offers to keep him here, himself included.  Prompt inspired by thisgifset





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story strays from canon in a variety of ways - starting with when Harvey gives him the note and how long it takes Mike to reply. Also, in this world there's no Mike getting pissed at Harvey when he loses his teaching job, nor is there any of Harvey being tentative or uncertain about his new role at the firm - the show may feel the need to put them through all that, but I don't. Also, this went more romantic than most anything I write and far less sexy times than expected. ~~My apologies on that count. ;)~~... I'm told the first kiss is pretty good, though. :)

How could an eight by ten inch piece of paper freeze him in his seat like this? 

Transfixed. Mike's brain ran through the synonyms as he stared at it on his dining room table, lying atop the envelope Harvey had handed him: Mesmerized, spellbound, bewitched. Captivated.   He shivered and then roused, seeing the coffee cooling in its cup next to it for the first time in, what? Five minutes? His cereal bowl was empty, though he barely remembered eating. 

It was ivory stationary with Harvey's name embossed at the top; creased in two places, the sides aligned perfectly. No half-ass, wonky angles for Harvey. He'd flattened each crease with a sure press of his thumb and handed the whole thing to Mike; their fingers bumping, Harvey murmuring 'please...think about this' with a long look and a nod goodbye.

 _Think_ about it? Mike couldn't stop.

"Bad night?"  Rachel asked.

He'd heard her getting up a while ago, the shower kicking on down the hall.

"No, why?"

"You look flushed."

She was pink cheeked herself, hair still damp and pulled back weekend casual. She was wearing dark jeans, zipping the chunky gold zipper on her navy blue sweater and it reminded him it was cold out - late spring, but spring very late in coming this year.

"I'm....fine. Just lost in thought. Might grab my bike; get moving, get some fresh air. Would you mind?”

"Of course not, go have fun. I have about ten errands to run," The worry wrinkle on her forehead smoothed out as she headed toward the coffee maker. "How about we meet up for lunch later?"

"Lunch sounds good," Mike turned to watch her as she waited for the brew to finish and then hung out over the kitchen counter cradling her mug in both hands. "What time works?”

"Let’s say… one _ish_ ….” she smiled, her voice going a little sing-song with anticipation. "We can meet at Albertinos! We'll split a whole Margarita pizza and a bottle of wine… come home after and hit the couch, watch a movie. How’s that sound?"

It would have sounded wonderful even before everything that happened; great food, lazy Saturday, someone who loved him. Post-prison it sounded like paradise - except for that piece of paper on the table, which made it feel less than totally honest.

"There's something I need you to know," Mike said.

There were better ways he could have started this.  He watched her hands freeze with the coffee cup at her lips.  Too late.

"I knew it," Rachel left the counter. She slid into the chair to his left, setting down her drink and offering her hand. "You've only been out of there a few days. You don't have to tell me you're all right if you're not."

"This isn't about prison," He met her eyes and took it; squeezed her fingers and held her gaze to reinforce his words. "For once... it's not about that. It's about when I was six."

"Six... years old?" Rachel sounded understandably confused.

"Yes. First grade, and... my first crush. I don't think I even understood the concept. All I knew was this kid was smart, funny, and I was so over the moon that I hated weekends 'cause I wanted to be with him all day, every day for the rest of my life."

"Oh...." Rachel looked surprised, yes, but a fond kind of surprised; like she was picturing his six-year-old self and was touched by the image.

"Yeah. At recess we'd all play tag when we weren't playing kickball or t-ball. There was this one day - early April, mud season...he ran behind this storage shed along the school yard fence when he was _it_ and I fell on my ass tagging him. He laughed and leaned down and kissed me. It was innocent, but....I liked it. I sat up and I kissed him back."

"What was his name?"

" _That's_ what you want to ask me?"

Rachel shrugged, detaching to reach for her coffee again.

"Well...yeah. I just....wondered, you know? It was your first crush! What did he look like?"

"It was a long time ago...I don't even remember his name. I remember he had dark hair and brown eyes. In the winter he wore a grownup coat; not a puffy coat like the rest of the kids, but a long, grey wool coat a grown man would wear. I think his family moved away that summer, ‘cause I don’t remember him being around after that. The reason I'm telling you is... it wasn't a one-time thing."

That got her attention; but again, to his surprise, not the reaction he expected. She drew closer, her smile conspiratorial and her eyes all over him, sparkling.

"Is this what we're doing?" She asked, an eyebrow up. "Swapping untold tales before the wedding? You already know my only dark and dirty secret, so...."

Mike slumped back in his chair.

"That's how you see it? Dark and dirty? 'Cause I don't."

"Then why tell me at all? I'm good with our pasts _being_ the past if you are."

Mike took a deep breath.

"That would be fine, except my attraction to him....to men isn't all in the past. Is it?"

"Excuse me?" 

Mike handed her the paper.

She didn't read it right away. He nodded and watched her flip it open, the frown lines returning on her forehead. It didn't take long for her to read it, of course, there were so few words on it.

She stayed silent for a while; digesting them, her jaw tightening.

"What the hell is this?"

"Harvey's latest attempt to get me back."

"What does he _mean_ by that?"  She waved it at him, and Mike felt something tighten inside him, somewhere between his heart and his gut, at the dismissiveness of the gesture; the way she was twisting the paper between her thumb and fingers as she flapped it around.

She was wrinkling it. There would be bends in it, maybe even a rip if she didn't....

"I'm pretty sure we both know," Mike took it from her, and slid it back in its envelope.

"Isn't it....presumptuous of him? In more ways than one?" Rachel snapped. "I mean...you're not even in the bar, and..."

"He believes we can make that happen. And if we can't... there's consulting."

Rachel's eyes were flitting over the table and around the room - anywhere but on him.

"You know what you need to do? You need to seize the day, Mike. Fill that page with dollar figures. Write out your expectations for advancement and your long-term future. Give _that_ to Harvey...and let's get on with our lives. Unless..."

"He was there for me, Rachel. He was ready to throw away _everything_ he's ever built for himself, and...."

"Oh...my God."  She was up in a flash; hands up, fingers bent, like she couldn't decide whether to block her ears or hold her aching head.  "And I wasn't. Right? That's what you're suggesting?"

"Are you...seriously walking away?" Mike asked. "'Cause I'm not done discussing this."

"I have to go," she pushed her chair in and stepped back from it. "I've said all I have to say. I'll be at Albertinos at one o'clock. I hope you will too."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I can't believe you'd even think about endangering our future, after all that...."

"You'd rather plow ahead, and not discuss the fact that someone I care for might be in..."

"I'm not getting left at the _altar_ again!" 

The way she snapped the words silenced him; so close to furious it seemed to surprise her, too.

Mike watched her compose herself and go. He sat there until his own heart stopped pounding, then he went to get a jacket and his bike.


	2. Chapter 2

The ride did calm him; the West Side greenway almost empty on a sharp, windy spring day. It was a pleasure having the freedom to fly up it fast as his feet could go.  But now, standing here and angling his wheels into the bike room of Harvey's building, he felt that thrum come back again; start rolling over his shoulders and down his spine.

"Did you ride straight over?"  Harvey was standing in the lobby when he got there. "Or were you out for a spin?"

Mike had texted ahead. Still, when had Harvey ever come downstairs to wait for him?

"Went over the GWB," Mike followed him into the elevator car, eyes running up and down him as the doors shut and it started up. "Thought about going all the way to Brooklyn after, but... I needed to talk with you."

"You went that far with no water bottle? Are you nuts?" Harvey leaned back, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his heavy cords. He had a black tee on, and loafers just the right amount of beat up with no socks. He was unabashedly eyeing him right back; taking in Mike's wind-reddened cheeks and the tousled mess it must have made of his hair - staring frankly enough to make Mike's pulse quicken. "A windy day's as drying as a hot one, and that's a hell of a ride."

"Do you know why I'm here?" Mike asked.

Harvey only waved him along as the elevator opened; headed them inside, and went for his fridge.

"Guessing you want to talk about my offer," Harvey pulled out a couple of cans of spring water. He handed him one with a 'hold on' gesture, walking back to his cupboard for a tall glass. "But I don't see the envelope so....this must be an interim negotiation."

He was adding stuff to the glass; a tablespoon of this, a dash of that. Mike eyed it as he poured in the water.

"Sugar and salt," Harvey said. "Electrolytes. You don't want to get the head spins miles from home on that thing."

"What, do I look like shit or something?" Mike took a long drink, and had to admit his whole body was saying thank you with every swallow.

"No. More like a guy still finding his footing," Harvey pushed the other can of water at him as Mike finished off the first. "You're pounding the pavement hard in the process, and….well it’s very ‘you’ not to take the best care of yourself, even when you really should."

"Harvey... your note."

"Yes?"

"What if I told you I need a week or two to give you an answer?" Mike watched Harvey absorbing the question. "What if I needed a month? Or even longer?"

"Then take a month or even longer," Harvey leaned in toward him; forearms on the counter, a gentle kind of getting in his face, his eyes brightening. "What's this about? Are you feeling under the gun in some way?"

An arch note in his voice said he already knew the answer.

"One o'clock. I have to be at Albertino's at one o'clock to meet Rachel. If I'm not there....I don't know what will happen with her and me."

"Why is that?"

"I showed her your ‘job offer.’  You know how it read."

Harvey looked surprised; a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes as he glanced at his watch.

"It's twelve thirty. You're cutting it close, buddy."

"Do you love me?"

"Do I _love_ you?"  Mike watched him stand up tall in a hurry at the words.

"Harvey...this isn't Fiddler. No answering the question with a question, and for the love of God no singing. Just tell me: Do you love me?"

It was a relief to see him relax and chuckle at the reference, the heart eyes he'd gotten out of him so many times before making their first appearance of the day. Seeing that look always made Mike's own heart skip a beat. He'd never told him so, though. Had he?

"I tend to speak with actions," Harvey said. "You know I'm no good at personal declarations."

"Well, sorry, but I need words from you. Simple, clear sentences, 'cause I've got _minutes_ to decide whether to blow up my whole life plan. Has it been in my head? All those times you looked at me like you wanted to pin me to the wall and kiss me stupid, was that in my head?"

"You know the answer," Harvey's voice turned softer than Mike had heard it in a long time. "Or you wouldn't be here."

"Then why the hell haven't you said anything to me before this? Like ... ever? You're not afraid of anything or anyone.... so why?"

"Wouldn't that be nice, not to be afraid of anything?" Harvey went about getting his own glass, his own water, as if they weren't threading their way through life-changing questions. "You might not want what I want. Or you may want it, but not enough to leave her. That's why I put in in writing, with words that give you an out. You can treat it as a simple business offer if you want to. If you do I'll understand."

"She said the same thing," Mike watched Harvey drinking; the bob of his throat as the water went down, and part of him wanted to go to him - to kiss that neck, that jaw, lay his head on Harvey's shoulder and ask him to do the thinking for all three of them. "She said to write down dollar figures and get on with my day. Our day."

"Smart,” Harvey shrugged. “Probably the least emotionally disruptive choice for everyone involved."

There was silence, then. Harvey was watching him patiently; in no hurry, because why would he be? Harvey knew his worth, and he'd said what he had to say - in writing, even. Still, for all his apparent impassiveness Mike could feel something probing in that stare. Harvey waiting for a declaration from _him_?  

He felt the brain fog of earlier return like a cloud settling over him.

"Shit. This is hard," Mike said, and with those few words he felt Harvey pull back into his shell just that little bit. "I don't know what's best! For her, for me... for you, even."

"Oh, don't kid yourself," Harvey sounded rueful. "I know what's best for me. That's why I want you back."

"I... literally have no idea what to do."

"Then do nothing."

"I don't see an 'ignore' button anywhere, Harvey."

"Of course, there's one. You do it by riding some more, enjoying your freedom and your weekend. That's probably what you need most."

"Rachel said..."

"For all you know she's out there kicking herself, asking why she was so inflexible. Maybe when you get home she'll tell you she understands you need time to think."

"And if not?"

"Then I'd say you've escaped a second prison this week."

"Harvey.... you have to kiss me," Mike's eyes were on the floor; brain churning, the words rolling out of his mouth low, earnest and totally unedited. "You have to kiss me right now."

"Excuse me?" Harvey seemed to find the order deeply amusing.

"You said... you told me it hasn't been my imagination, all those times. I need..."

"No," Harvey was chuckling, but shifting foot to foot - the self-conscious stance he got sometimes when Mike was being such a goof that it made him physically uncomfortable. "That's not happening."

Mike could feel his own face pinking.

"You have to. I need to know if...it feels right or not."

"Mike, for cripe's sake....no. Not now."

"Why not?"

"For starters, this moment is ten times more awkward than anything that merits a first kiss,” Harvey grabbed their glasses, taking them to the sink and rinsing them. “And, oh... mainly because you're engaged."

"Right, how could I forget?" Mike heard venom creep into his tone. "The pure and perfect Harvey Specter never crosses the line. He _does_ write love notes to his associate in the form of a purported job offer, but..."

"Careful, tiger" Harvey was still turned away – reaching for a towel, not even looking back at him. “Writing that was one of the hardest things I've done all year, second only to driving you to Danbury. So keep the claws in."

"I'm sorry.” Mike hated how perfunctory the apology came out sounding, when he really was.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected, coming here. This wasn't it.

"Look...you told me you needed time," Harvey turned back, tossing the towel on the counter, his face a patient blank again. "So go home and take it."

"You didn't see her; how angry she was. What if I don't have a home to go to?"

Part of Mike didn't want to believe that was even possible- that everything could come to a head in the course of a few hours. The way Harvey took the question seriously, though; looking around, a glance over toward his own guest room made it all feel like way too solid and wrenching a possibility.

"The manager at the Sofitel owes me," Harvey said. "I can get him to set you up with a room for a couple of weeks. _If_ you even need it. Sound good?"

"Yeah," Mike grabbed his jacket, slowly starting for the door. "Thanks."

"Hey," Harvey said, and Mike stopped.

"Yeah?"

"Are you sorry you came over?"

"No."

"Are you sorry ...about the note? About all of this?"

"No, Harvey. I'm not."

Mike did find comfort as he biked home in the thought that this triangle they'd lived with for years but barely acknowledged would be over soon. Resolved.

But how?


	3. Chapter 3

Harvey couldn't get the image out of his head: Mike leaving his place looking so torn.

It had him distracted enough to consider cancelling dinner plans with a friend from out of town. He went, but found he could barely hold a decent conversation. Then he took a long walk around midtown and a late night drink alone at the Rainbow Room.

He was in bed in the dark, staring at the ceiling when his phone chimed on the nightstand. He picked it up and saw Mike's name above the text message.

_'You never thought I should have asked her to marry me.'_

Harvey stared at the words, then let his arm fall toward the mattress, absently caressing the side of the phone with his thumb.

_"You're right. I didn't,' he keyed back. 'She stopped deserving you the day she cheated on you. If she ever did at all.'_

There it was. He'd 'said' it.

It took a while before the phone rattled lightly in his hand again.

_'That's kind of egotistical, isn't it? Even for you?'_

_'Didn't say that I deserve you, either. But you can be such a shit sometimes you feel like my actual penance, so..'_

_'I need that hotel room. Offer still good?'_

Harvey sat up in bed.

_'Already arranged it. Give them your name at check-in.'_

There was nothing, after that, for the longest time - so long that Harvey put the phone back on his nightstand and tried to fall asleep.

_"Tx."_

That was it. Two letters, an hour later.

This time, there was no fighting the images in his head:  Mike alone, conflicted, maybe in tears in that hotel room. It cost him sleep knowing what must have happened, and how upset Mike would be at breaking her heart a second time.

-*-

And then, as much as Mike was on his mind every waking hour (and some of the non-waking ones, too) Harvey had to let him go a little.

He needed his work, and the firm needed him; Jessica gone, new roles for all of them to fall into or claw at. Harvey hadn't thought he had anything more to learn about office politics, but found he was wrong.

"Hey," A warm, deep voice at his office door ten days later.

"Hello, stranger," Harvey drawled at Mike. He kicked back in his chair, drinking in the sight and too happy for it to pretend indifference. "What brings you by?"

"Came to get Rachel," Mike was still hanging on the doorjamb, like he wasn't sure whether he wanted to walk in all the way.

"For lunch?"   Harvey tried not to show how painful it was, not knowing their status.

He'd gone so far as to ask Donna what she'd heard - but she told him it was one situation she was steering well clear of for the love of them all.  He couldn't blame her.

"Yes. Lunch...and to give her my key," Mike said. "I got a new apartment; as of tonight I'm living in the East Thirties."

"In that new tower? Did you get the river view?"

"Yeah. I can see all the way downtown."

"Nice. Your view's better than mine."

"It's only a studio, but it'll do. Fresh start, you know? I feel like I really need that. I wanted to say thank you for the hotel room. It helped a lot, and I appreciate it."

"How's she taking it?" Harvey asked. "You moving out on your own?"

It seemed like a natural question to ask, but Mike flinched and he felt like shit for going there.

"She warned me she's almost out of hope. And patience," Mike said. "I told her... I get it.”

"Want to grab dinner tonight? Talk?"

"I'd like to, but I can't. That's the other reason I came here..." The words sounded ominous, but Mike stepped in a little, then, as if to mitigate their impact. "I may be on my own but that doesn't mean I'm free, Harvey. I'm still not sure how this all plays out for me."

"How long do you suppose it'll be until you are...sure? And free?"

He saw Mike's little grin at how flat and evenly he'd asked it; the light dancing in Mike's eyes at the thought of Harvey counting down the days.  But then the smile disappeared.

"I don't know. How long was it for you, after you made someone cry that hard?"

Harvey gave him a nod that said he understood.  Mike seemed to take it as a cue to go, but watching him walk away....

"Mike," He stopped him with a word, resisting the urge to get up and go to him. "Even if you decide that.... if it's not me you want? I'll understand. But I hope you coming back is still on the table?"

The look on Mike's face, now? Borderline embarrassed - like he'd been found out. It was downright frightening, that look, in the volume it told him about the distance between them Harvey had tried to pretend wasn't growing.

"I found a job teaching," Mike said, and the way it hit him, Harvey felt like he might as well have told him he was moving to Mars. "I don't know, Harvey. I still don't know....about anything."

Harvey watched him go, and felt tired, suddenly. Couldn't go after him, because he had his pride - and maybe not much more. Couldn't help thinking Rachel wasn't the only one running out of hope.


	4. Chapter 4

"Well, hello Robin Hood...."

Mike felt the words run from the phone against his ear all the way to his toes with a slight detour halfway down. Only Harvey could verbally poke him in the ribs and still purr it out like that.

"Ha, ha...funny except I don't steal from the rich, I keep them from screwing over the poor. And sometimes, apparently, I _am_ the rich bailing out the poor. When the hell did that happen?"

"What's all _that_ about?" He heard that Harvey was more than a little interested in Mike's implied literal investment in the clinic's work.

"Nothing pertinent. Tell you another time. How are you?"

"Good. Louis hasn't killed me yet and I've only wanted to murder him twice, so...."

Mike listened to Harvey's spiel about the firm, the new associates, yada yada. Mostly he focused on that that voice and how good it felt to hear it.

They'd texted more than they'd talked the past month; had seen each other only with other people in the room. But he'd been proud of how much Harvey had stood back and let him try to fend for himself; had stayed out of his choices, even though he wanted Mike back. Harvey hadn't even butted in when he'd lost his teaching job; had stayed focused, instead, on the long term and getting Mike in the bar.

Mike refused to have much hope of success; but then they'd won against such odds, and - whatever happened in his life from now on, _that_ would be a night he'd never forget. The grin on Harvey's face, so full of unabashed happiness at his joy; Mike had hoped for.... _wanted_ time alone with him to celebrate. So it was crushing when he turned around in the bar they'd all hit for a celebratory drink and found Harvey had been the first of them to go home.

It had been the moment he'd known for sure how things had to go - and where he belonged.

"Are you dating one of your co-workers, yet?" He heard Harvey ask him.

Well, _that_  woke him up. It stung; Harvey knew he'd called it off with Rachel and hadn't even reached out to ask him about it. It also sounded a little like Harvey was maybe taking himself out of contention.

"No.... of course I'm not. Why?"

"Oh, nothing. Only a nightmare scenario my brain's been playing for me on a loop. It’s entertaining stuff; you walking the campus with her, sitting on a blanket and picking dandelions. You're wearing your man-bag over your chest and she's gazing at you, all gooey with love and mutual admiration for the rule of law…"

“You’re an ass,” Relief running through him; Mike drew a long breath in around it "You know that, right? You could have asked me to my face."

"Sure, 'cause it's so like me to play the needy suitor," Harvey's voice was chiding but not cold, more 'yeah, right' in it than 'screw that.'  "Nothing's less attractive than a pest, Mike. I feel like….I've made myself clear. Haven't I? All I can do is wait. And you know how good I am at that."

"Then I guess it's a good thing I'm calling to see if you have time to meet up this weekend? To re-discuss your offer?"

"Is that really why you're gracing my morning?"

"Yes."

"I won't lie; I'm glad to hear it. It's been cold and lonely here in limbo."

"I appreciate it, Harvey; you being patient."

"No problem."

"Really?"

"No, not really. It's been a huge, miserable problem and you know it. Where are you taking me this weekend?"

"Albertinos. Saturday... eight o'clock."

"Whatever it is you've decided ....you're paying. You do understand that?"

"Yeah, Harvey. Dinner is on me."

-*-

Mike spotted him in the back booth, wearing black slacks and a dark grey cashmere sweater. A leather jacket lay folded on the seat next to him. Harvey looked nervous; eyes going from the water glass he was twisting around to the far window and back.

"You're dressed for work," Harvey acknowledged him as he walked up, with a nod at Mike's deep blue suit and a touch of disappointment in his voice. "Is this purely a business meeting, then?"

"Aren't all relationships business arrangements?" Mike slid into the seat across from him, pulling an envelope from his coat pocket. "I mean, once you get past the passion and the almost constant screwing… they become work, don't they? A team effort."

It always felt like a victory to make Harvey's face show multiple emotions at once. Right now it was a mix of piqued hopes, a dash of 'you're not wrong' and a wry amusement at Mike's bluntness.

"Give me that," Harvey waggled his fingers at the envelope. "You're ten minutes late and I've had enough suspense for the whole goddamned year."

"Sorry," Mike handed it to him, watching him flip the paper out, unfolding it. "The shuttle train at Penn Station was slow; it wasn't my intention to make you wait."

Their waitress picked that moment to swing by; Mike caught the arched eyebrow they got at how quickly they tossed up their orders and turned away from her.

"Jesus," Harvey breathed the word out once she was gone, still reading. "You're worse than a little shit; you're a pricey little shit."

"I'm more than worth it, though."

"Yes. You are," Harvey was visibly doing the math of Mike's various demands. "Some of this...the structure of it, and the amount of pro bono you're asking for, it isn't entirely my decision to make.”

"I understand. But you obviously have a lot of the say, so..."

"I can at least commit to coming close to what you've outlined here. Does that work?"

"Yes. I trust you," Mike sat back, nodding at the server dropping off their martinis, waiting for him to go before he continued  "That said… I'll need you to sign it, like the actual contract it is."

"You didn't even bother to write it out on my original letter," Harvey's tone took on a glummer shade again. "What does this mean at the top; addendum to the master agreement?”

"You're asking _me_ what an addendum is? It means there's more to discuss, Harvey. The career portion.... it's important, don't get me wrong. But it's not the heart of the matter."

Harvey picked up his fork, futzing with it, looking almost like he might take his frustration out on the table top with the tines.

"Did you not hear me a minute ago, about the suspense?"

"Here," Mike pulled out Harvey's note, sliding it across the table top. " _This_ is the offer you made me, and my response. But before you open it you need to understand; unlike my professional demands, this ... _personal_ contract is not negotiable."

"Then... yes," Harvey dropped the fork, reaching to press Mike's fingers onto the paper with his own. Mike felt a thumb sliding under to stroke his palm and take his hand. "Whatever you wrote.. my answer is yes."

The way Harvey said it; urgently, with a full heart, made Mike's eyes sting - partly with happiness, but also with an understanding of what it cost Harvey to be that vulnerable.

"That's ....beautiful, Harvey," Mike squeezed his hand, hearing how breathless it came out. "But I need you to read it. This requires your fully informed consent."

He watched him open it; could literally see _what_ Harvey was reading. First there was Harvey's spidery cursive at the top; 'Whatever you want from me, whatever you need; tell me and it's yours."  Under it, Mike had used his most patient, careful hand to block out the letters in print that was clear, big and certain: 'Say you're mine all day, every day, for the rest of our lives - and _I'm_ yours.'

"Well, damn," Harvey said, finally, blinking hard like his own eyes were stinging. "I thought, when it took so long....I thought you'd keep this about work. That I'd have to settle for that and...watch you find someone else. Watch the two of you..."

Harvey trailed off like he couldn't bring himself to finish the thought out loud. Mike jumped in to save him.

"And I was afraid the 'rest of our lives' part might be a deal breaker?"

"No way. I don't see you getting rid of me. Try it: I’ll fight you so hard, it'll make The War of the Roses look like a rom-com."

“Oh, great,” Mike couldn't help the nervous laughter threatening, even though Harvey looked like he meant every word. He got in Harvey's face a little to break the mood, to try to get him to focus on Mike's happy relief. “This is how we’re starting, huh? With warnings of chaos and murderous adoration? Does that make me Oliver or Barbara?”

"You're always the pretty one," Harvey still looked somber, but gave him an 'I'm throwing you a bone' wink.

"So.. I'm Michael Douglas, then."

"Ouch...that's...harsh." Harvey mock-hissed through his teeth. Then his gaze softened, his eyes back on the note. “I'm framing this. I’m putting it on my dresser."

"Not before we sign it."

"Got a pen?"

"What kind of a closer would I be if I didn't?"

Mike pulled a Montblanc from his jacket pocket, and watched Harvey sign. The sight of it; the sound of the pen scratching along the paper made his heart fill with that fission of excitement he was starting to get used to; the feeling of having permission to want Harvey - to want _them_.

"Where do we start?" Harvey asked.

"Well, aside from me coming back to the firm I thought...maybe we date. You know... get used to spending our time together, see how..."

"Not what I meant," Harvey's voice went warm and low; felt to Mike’s ears like a long sip of honeyed bourbon going down. "What I meant is.... your place or mine? For dessert."

"Oh," The word popped out fast and a little louder than he'd intended; Mike felt himself blushing hard. "I...uh...thought ...my new place. I kind of have it in my head; us….there. You know? Doing it all over my apartment?"

"Well it's a studio," Harvey shrugged, eyes never leaving Mike's as he sipped his drink. "I think we can get that accomplished tonight. By brunch, for sure."

-*-

How they managed to wait for, enjoy and finish dinner Mike was never certain. But eventually they were on the street and walking toward the curb, Harvey buttoning his coat against the cold, damp air.

It was on that cusp; it could rain, it could snow - felt like a perfect night for the warmth of a fire, but with hope for the year ahead in the air.

"It’s not far," Harvey said, seeing him scoping traffic for a cab. "Wanna walk it?”

"We could..." Mike was surprised, but not averse.

"Let's. But first...wait," Harvey was stopping him; taking his arm. "Come here?"

 Mike felt himself being urged firmly but gently around; felt an odd hyper-focus take over, the world slowing and contracting, going silent until there was nothing but the two of them. Harvey was right there over him, eyes bright and mouth softly open; arms sliding around him, their lips so close they'd brush if he moved, if he...

"What are you waiting for?" Mike asked, and... _yes_ , contact; Harvey planting the lightest of pecks, the barest hint of a tongue flick, eyes narrowing with the obvious wish for more.

"Need you to start this," Harvey said, then kissed him harder but still so infuriatingly lightly. "Need to know ...you're sure. Mike, if you're not...."

"How's this for sure?"  Mike stood tall to even their heights and dove in; couldn't hold in a long, contented sound as Harvey kissed him back and they found a deep, sliding rhythm.

Leave it to Harvey to somehow be both the receiver of the kiss and yet guiding it; holding Mike in place with a hand in his hair, pulling away enough to force him to come in again for more, kissing him until he was dizzy, his face warm and sweetly sore from the friction of tongue and teeth and stubble and barely this side of tripping over his own feet.

"Good?" Harvey asked it against his cheek; tasting his way along to Mike's ear and neck, letting him breathe. "Did it feel...right?"

"Hell, yeah," Mike heard how languid the words slid out; felt Harvey nip at his skin in response. "Cab." 

"Cab?" Harvey sounded confused. 

"Faster," Mike turned his head in search of those lips, and found them. "Cabbing it... will be faster. Need to get you home."

"We'll get there faster..." Harvey took the initiative, pulling him toward the corner. "If you stop making such an exhibitionist of yourself on the sidewalk...."

They flagged one quickly despite the rain starting. The bad news: It was the model with zero leg room between the back and the partition, and kissing all the way home would have inevitably involved the driver to a distinctly uncomfortable degree.

"Hey," Harvey said the one time Mike looked away and out the window, eyes searching to see what cross street they'd reached.  "The question you asked me a few weeks ago? Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes... I love you. I've always loved you."

Mike waited a beat. Timed it. Gave Harvey his best 'you asked for this' grin.

"Ditto," he said, then ducked fast as Harvey dove at him; getting an arm around his neck to apply maximum knuckle rub to Mike's skull. "Sorry... sorry...ahhh...stop it. I love you, too. I do, I love you, you....fucker...."

One kiss wouldn't hurt, Mike thought. Besides, it was behind their tangled arms as they wrestled and cab drivers see every possible thing most days. Don't they? 


End file.
